


no one can contest it

by bosbie



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec loves his siblings, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, alec runs a coffee shop with izzy and jace what More can you ask for????, dick landlords, raj is a baker lmao, secretssssssssss, the struggles of running a small business
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bosbie/pseuds/bosbie
Summary: In which Alec hates Starbucks and maybe his life. But he doesn’t hate his siblings, and he certainly doesn’t hate Magnus. Or:Alec’s life after he finds out his landlord died.





	1. Chapter 1

“Our landlord died,” Izzy says by way of greeting, the door chiming brightly as she steps into the shop. She’s waving a piece of paper around and looks perfectly put together despite it being five in the morning.

After a pause, Alec puts down the coffee decanter he was wiping and smoothes his hands down his apron. “Did you check the mail?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Izzy says. She holds the paper she has up as proof.

Alec gets a rag from the bin he puts rags in and starts wiping the bar counter. “You never check the mail,” he says. It’s usually Jace who does that. He also comes up with new menu items and helps close up shop. Izzy does finances and Alec does everything else. It’s their routine; it’s been their routine since the manager stopped coming to work three years ago. It was an odd situation to be in, but he was told to keep paying rent when he called their landlord. Who’s dead now, apparently. Huh.

“Jace is so hungover he started crying when I opened his blinds,” Izzy says. She grabs some chairs from on top of the tables and starts setting them down.

Alec frowns. “It’s not a good idea to drink on workdays.” Today is Tuesday. Jace usually doesn’t drink on workdays.

“It’s the new bartender for the bar across the street,” Izzy explains. She drags a chair it to its table and smiles apologetically when Alec glares at her. He doesn’t like it when people drag chairs. It wears down the chair’s legs and scratches the wooden flooring. “The red-haired one? He’s finding every excuse to talk to her. Namely, using our funds to buy drinks so he doesn’t loiter.”

“Ah.” Alec rinses and rings the rag over the utility sink and throws it back into the bin. He blinks. “Our landlord died?”

“A week ago, according to this notice.”

“Our landlord’s been dead for a week and we’re just told now?” Alec shakes his head. How unprofessional. “What else does it say?”

Izzy unfolds the paper and reads it again. “Just that we continue to send rent to the same address.”

“Oh.”

“What’s the correct protocol for this is?” Izzy muses. All the chairs are down, so she goes behind the counter to brew the first batch of coffee. The shop opens in an hour. “Do we, like, send flowers? A note of grievance?”

Alec wonders how it must be like in the afterlife, peering into the walls of a coffee shop you leased out to some kids and eavesdropping on their conversation about whether they should send flowers to you or not. Must be a very odd experience. He puts himself into the mindset of their dead landlord and thinks. “I don’t know,” he decides, “those are the kind of situations I hired you for.”

She takes a steaming pastry from a tray on the counter and pokes his arm when he moves past her to place them inside the display case. The shop smells of coffee, like routine, like every other day of Alec’s life. “Technically, you didn’t hire me.” She’s right. Technically, Izzy and Jace just started showing up. When Alec was suddenly given the huge responsibility of keeping a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop afloat, they would help out as much as their school schedules would allow. After a while Alec decided that he might as well begin to pay them. “I’ll look it up later.”

“I guess we don’t have to change anything, then. Since the address is the same.” How weird is that? Someone who was an important part of their lives—despite Alec having never personally met the guy—is dead, but his death has no impact on them. The world is strange.

“I guess,” Izzy agrees. Alec gets a whiff of her perfume. Lilac.

And that’s the end of that.

 

\-----

 

Four years ago Alec was a struggling college student working at a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop to help pay for tuition. Now, Alec is a struggling business owner that runs a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, making enough to break even every month. It’s not the life he’d envisioned for himself and his two siblings, but it’s enough to pay for their apartment and the food they eat, so Alec guesses that it’s enough.

Alec feels like he is set, wedged in his part of the world where him and Jace and Izzy are too comfortably tucked in between the other to really care for the rest of it.

Sometimes, Alec feels like he is stuck. In what, he doesn’t want to admit. So he ignores it.

 

\-----

 

“Did you hear that our landlord died?” Simon asks as he walks into Alec’s coffee shop. Simon is the cashier for the thrift shop down the road. Alec doesn’t really like him, but Izzy really does, so he tolerates him enough and gives him coffee whenever he comes over.

Alec stops mid-sweep and squints at him. Simon is carrying a Starbucks cup, “Cymon” scrawled in black Sharpie across the offending green logo. “You have Starbucks,” Alec says.

Simon glances at his hand, almost looking surprised when he sees the steaming Starbucks he’s holding. “I do. They never spell my name right.”

“I—why? I own a coffee shop. I can give you free coffee. Coffee much better than that mass-produced sludge. Why are you letting the corporate enemy into my safe haven?” Alec has become very passionate about coffee ever since he took over the shop. Starbucks is the devil and monopolies make him gag.

Simon shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re not Starbucks, I guess.”

Alec is intermittently hit with how much he dislikes Simon. He's almost sure that Simon is doing this on purpose; he must have brought that cup to piss him off, going to the nearest Starbucks (which is a whopping two miles away) with the sole intention of making a vein pop in Alec’s forehead.

“Whatever. And yes, I heard that our landlord died. He owned nearly all the businesses on our street. Pretty big news.”

“Definitely.” Simon takes a sip of his cup and the entire left side of Alec’s face twitches. He’s not sure how that's possible; Simon just has that effect on people. “I heard that his grandson took over for him. He’s the one collecting our rent money.”

“How interesting,” Alec says. Simon doesn’t pay rent for the thrift shop. He’s only a cashier. His boss is a kind-eyed woman who’s married to the man that runs the bar across the street. Alec likes the both of them much more than he likes Simon, who began to work at the thrift shop a couple of years ago when he moved to the area for university. “It doesn’t really matter though, in the long run.The person we’re paying rent to doesn’t change the fact that we’re paying rent.”

“Huh.” Simon takes another sip of his Starbucks and sits in at one of the tables near the front window. “That’s a pessimistic way of looking at it. But you’re not wrong.”

“I’m not,” Alec says, and he continues to sweep the floor, anticipating the onslaught that will come with the lunch crowd.

 

\-----

 

“I think we should add frappuccinos to the menu,” Jace suggests. They’re huddled around a round table at the bar across the street because apparently, meeting there to brainstorm ideas for the coffee shop is a thing now. Has been a thing, ever since Jace started dating the red-haired bartender. From the short time Alec and her has spent together, he’s decided that he doesn’t like her. He hadn’t known why at first, but when Jace told him that she’s best friends with Simon, Alec figured it has something to do with that. “We won’t call them frappuccinos ‘cause they’re, like, trademarked, right? But we’d take the basic structure of it and make it our own.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Izzy says. “Frappes are super popular these days. It’ll attract a bigger crowd.”

“What? No.” Alec is baffled. Who are these people? He doesn’t even know them anymore. “Frappuccinos? A Starbucks creation? Not in my shop.”

“I’ve never understood your hatred for Starbucks,” Clary, the bartender, says. She shouldn’t be here; coffee brainstorming is official Lightwood Bonding Time **™**. But the bar has recently opened shop and there’s no one here, so she’s nestled comfortably with her arm flush against Jace’s. If Alec was seventeen and uncomfortable with his sexuality, the sight probably would’ve bothered him, made him jealous. In reality, Alec is twenty-four and Jace is his brother, so the sight bothers him merely because Clary is intruding on quality Lightwood Bonding Time™.

“What’s there not to hate? Starbucks is the devil and I don’t want the devil in my shop,” Alec argues, already feeling his blood boil as he thinks more and more of the evil corporation. “They sell low quality garbage for a high price to an unsuspecting public and drag smaller businesses through the mud. No Starbucks in my coffee shop.”

“Please don’t get him started on Starbucks,” Jace pleads, tucking a stray piece of ginger hair behind Clary’s ear. “He could go on for hours.”

“I bet he could,” Simon says as he walks by, tuning his guitar. Every other Thursday, Simon and his band provide the bar live entertainment. They’re actually very good. Maybe that’s why Izzy likes him; she’s always been partial to musicians.

Alec sighs. Izzy laughs at him, but she does so with a warm fondness and a hand cupping his shoulder. He loves her. He also loves Jace, and maybe he could come to love Simon and Clary too if they keep making his siblings look as happy as they do in this moment.

 

\-----

 

Jace comes up with a knockout frappuccino recipe and adds it to the menu. It’s a hit. Profits rise when it’s introduced and business becomes a bit more hectic for about a month.

Nowadays, Jace looks a lot more smug than before. Many a time he punches Alec on the shoulder and says something along the lines of, “I told you so.” Alec always rolls his eyes and, smothering a grin, lets Jace gloat and soak it all in.

 

\-----

 

Alec feels sick. The last time he felt this sick was when he came out to his parents seven years ago; he knew they wouldn’t take the news as graciously as Izzy and Jace had, so the hour before he did saw him throwing up in the downstairs toilet. Even though it was a rough few years after that, his parents learned to at least tolerate their eldest son being gay, so throwing up in that toilet seat seems like an overreaction in hindsight. Somehow, the sick feeling he has right now feels much worse.

“ _Ten percent_ ,” Jace says, looking just as nauseous as Alec feels. “Our landlord raised our rent _ten percent_.”

“Is this even legal?” Alec asks Izzy, because she’s in charge of finances and is very knowledgeable about the number side of business-owning.

“Technically, yes,” Izzy confirms, nervously twirling a piece of her hair. “But it’s really impolite that he didn’t even bother to contact us to see if we’d be okay with this or not.”

“We’d obviously say no,” Jace hisses. He swipes the notice from Alec’s hand and reads it again. Alec wonders why this landlord is so intent on sending such vital information through the post. Certainly in this day and age he could take time out his day to at least call or email them this news instead of such an old-fashioned, one-sided way of relaying information. “We’re barely paying it off as it is! An extra ten percent wouldn’t even be a possibility if it weren’t for the extra revenue we’re making with my frappes.”

“Our rent’s never been changed before,” Alec comments. This is the first time this has happened. “I can’t think of the reason why our landlord decided to do so now.”

“No doubt he’s one of those spoiled little rich kids fresh out of college. No experience in the real world but with a ego boosted by money and a high GPA,” Jace sneers. “Wants to soak up all the money he can get, not looking out for the little man.”

Jace’s view on their landlord is very reminiscent to how Alec feels about Starbucks.This parallel causes his irritation at the still unnamed figure to grow even stronger.

“How do you even know our landlord’s even a guy?” Izzy asks, always the one for equal opportunity.

Jace looks at the notice again and snorts. “The fucker didn’t even sign it off with his name. You’re right, Izzy. Our shitty landlord could be a shitty landlady.”

“We could, like, contact them?” Izzy suggests. “To, I don’t know, maybe see if we could come to a mutual decision. But that’s entirely up to Alec.”

Alec thinks. Then, “No, I don’t think it would be worth it.” Alec has seen the type of person their landlord is; hard-headed, impossible to cooperate with, born into money so is unable to understand that raising a small business’ rent ten percent is a lot to ask for. Of course, all these observations are coming from a single notice, but Alec’s always been a quick and accurate judge of character. And besides, he’s never been the most confrontational person.

“And why do you say that?” Jace says. He looks ready to charge into their landlord’s office and wrangle his neck. Or her. Izzy is right; there isn’t any indication on the notice of their landlord’s gender.

“I’ve met dozens of people just like our landlord in college,” Alec explains. “They won’t budge.”

“Maybe I could persuade them,” Jace says, cracking his knuckles. It’s not as threatening as Jace probably thinks it looks.

“Leave it,” Alec says, tone final. He’s tired. He wants to go to bed. “By the looks of it, we can definitely afford the rent raise.” He looks at Izzy for confirmation.

“We can,” she confirms. “But we’d barely be breaking even.”

“That’s okay, for now,” Alec says despite that not being okay at all. “Do any of you know if the rent raise applies to the other businesses?”

“Judging by the amount of angry emojis Clary is sending me, it at least applies for the bar across the street,” Jace says, scrolling through his phone with a very angry thumb.

“Great,” Alec says. He feels his weariness all the way to his bones. The familiar smell of his coffee is no longer calming. Something has changed, and he doesn’t like it. Thoughts are already racing through his mind on how to raise profits to combat this problem. More menu changes? Budget cuts? A different pastry provider? Better advertising? Maybe he should ask Izzy to create an Instagram for the coffee shop. Social media has shown to be a good advertising tool.

“We need another brainstorm session,” he tells his siblings. Even the thought of having official Lightwood Bonding Time **™** isn’t enough to sooth the new migraine he’s sporting. He adds an offhanded “Later,” because all he wants to do now is take a long nap.

 

\-----

 

Two businesses have already closed shop and the month isn’t even over yet. It’s terrifying, watching what soon could become a reality for Alec’s coffee shop happen to shops that have been on the street for much longer than he’s worked here.

“What’s with everything on the street closing down?” Raj asks when he hands Alec a box of chocolate orange pecan scones. He owns a bakeshop about two hours away and arrives every morning in his beat-up delivery truck with Alec’s pastries.

“Our landlord raised the rent,” Alec explains plainly. It’s three in the morning and he doesn’t want to think about it.

“Harsh,” Raj says. He reaches into the back of his truck and pulls out another box. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen to your shop, huh? I wouldn’t want to lose a loyal customer.”

Raj probably meant for that to sound reassuring. Alec smiles and agrees, knowing what it’s like to say something and having it come out in an entirely different way than he’d intended to.

Alec likes Raj. He’s easy to talk to and comfortable to be around. And he’s a very good baker. Alec likes people who knows their way around the kitchen. It’s too bad Raj lives so far away; Alec would like to see him around more in the normal hours of the day, not just in the early morning where nothing quite seems real.

Instead, Alec is stuck with the company of those like Simon. What a pity.

“Can’t you file a complaint?” Raj suggests. “Like, as a community? Make a petition, or maybe organize a strike. Stop paying rent until your landlord agrees to lower it.”

“We don’t have a lot of say in anything,” Alec says. He sets down box and takes the clipboard Raj hands him. “If we put up any kind of fight he could kick us all out, replace us with chain restaurants and retail stores. Which is, I think, his plan in the long run. Or her.”

“That’s been happening a lot recently, I heard.” Raj takes the clipboard back when Alec is finished signing the receipt and claps him on the back in sympathy. “I feel for you, buddy. What do you say, maybe I’ll give you a discount on your next order of bagels to help you out. Every small thing counts.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Small businesses need to help other small businesses.” He winks playfully. “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to lose a loyal customer.”

Alec really wishes Raj didn’t live so far away. “Thanks,” he says, hoping his gratitude shows through his words and the grateful look he sends Raj’s way.

 

\-----

 

“Clary’s good at art,” Jace says, leaning against the countertop. Clary nods humbly in agreement. “Like, she’s _really_ good.”

“Okay?” Alec says. Jace and Clary continue to watch him intently as he absently thumbs a mysterious brown stain on his apron. Business is slow and he would berate them for holding up the line if there was one. His only customers are a giggling teenage couple sitting near the entrance, sipping on a shared frappuccino they ordered three hours ago. Alec narrows his eyes at them in distaste. Loiterers. The least they could do is order a pastry on the side.

“She’s in school for art, too,” Jace adds, looking like a proud father. A weird comparison, considering that Jace and Clary are dating. “That means she’s really good.”

“I’m pretty good,” Clary confirms.

“That’s nice,” Alec says, because he doesn’t know what they want him to say. He doesn’t want to sound mean, inadvertently offended Clary. Alec doesn’t dislike Clary anymore. He doesn’t think he’s allowed to; they’ve only been dating for two months now and Jace already looks at her like she’s the reason he wakes up in the morning. And, looking past her annoying voice and Simon-esque mannerisms, she seems like an alright girl, confident and passionate for the things she deems is worth her love.

“So,” Jace says, raising his eyebrows, “We were thinking.” He glances at Clary and gets a firm look of support in return. “Maybe we could, you know. Have her make some art for us to put on our walls?”

Alec stares. “We have art on the walls,” he says, disturbed.

“No, we have stock photos of generic coffee imagery on our walls that’ve been here since you started working here.” Jace shakes his head. “Clary’s _good_ , Alec. Anything she can do is a million times better than any picture of [cascading coffee beans](https://www.google.com/search?q=cascading+coffee+beans&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj0krjEyLbOAhVL22MKHS5TBz0Q_AUICSgC&biw=1282&bih=648) the last owner can Google and print out to frame.”

Alec never really redecorated when he took over. It looks just how he’d envisioned the typical, family-owned coffee shop: a little scratched up, but homey. Welcoming. He’d never thought of changing anything. The possibility of that happening on such short notice makes him nervous, but he doesn’t know why.

“I don’t know,” he answers.

“I’ll do it for free,” Clary bargains. “This would be a great opportunity to publicly showcase my work. It benefits both of us. Your shop will get a makeover and I’ll get exposure for my art.”

“It’ll attract customers!” Jace says. “ _And_ it’s free. There’s literally no downside to this, Alec.”

Alec lets that soak in. “Is it really necessary, though?” he asks, just to be sure.

Just as he says that, a customer walks in. Clary turns around and smiles brightly.

“Hey! I know this is sudden and all, but what do you think about this shop’s decor?” she asks him. Jace grins at his girlfriend’s forwardness as Alec groans inwardly, horrified at how this could potentially drive away a customer.

“Um.” The man looks around. “Drab, I guess? It could use a little more, I don’t know. Flair.”

“That’s fair,” Clary says as Jace jerks his head approvingly at the man’s swift and concise consensus. Meanwhile, Alec does his best to not look offended and let his bias sour his first impression of the guy. He just called his coffee shop _drab_. How rude.

“We’re trying to convince my brother to add some, as you said, _flair_ ,” Jace explains. He looks smug, as always. Clary does, too. They’re perfect for each other.

“I’d certainly agree to that,” the man says, walking towards them. Alec swallows. He’s very handsome. “But, to be honest, an owner who willingly lets their shop look like this must be very—ah.”

“Thanks for your input, man,” Jace says as he takes Clary’s hand, smooth and gentleman-like. The guy has stopped behind the two of them, mid-step. Alec furrows his eyebrows. “C’mon Clary, we should start thinking up some designs that’ll suit Alec’s tastes without being too boring.”

“But I never said—”

“Make your decision after you see my art,” Clary says. She seems convinced that Alec will like whatever she has in mind for his coffee shop. She must be very good then, or at least, have a good amount of confidence in her abilities as an artist.

Just like that, they leave. Somewhere along the way the teenage couple’d left as well. The guy is still standing in front of Alec and Alec returns to rubbing his apron’s brown stain with his thumb.

“Hi,” the guy says. His hand grazes the granite of the countertop, showcasing the metal rings wrapped around his fingers and the dark blue of his nails.

“Hi,” Alec says back, forgetting for a second that this was a customer. He winces in apology and courteously says, “Welcome! What can I get for you?” He always tries to be extra polite to new faces. New customers are always new opportunities for expanding the coffee shop’s regular clientele.

A well-mannered smile grows on the guy’s tan face. His teeth are white and straight. Alec wonders how many times a day he brushes them to get them that nice. “What would you recommend? This is my first time here.”

“I know,” Alec says. When the guy raises an eyebrow, he quickly adds, “I didn’t recognize you, so.” He pauses and realizes how suspicious that sounds. “Not that I know all my customers’ faces, it’s just that. I haven’t seen you around before. You’re a—new face. Which isn’t a bad thing! It’s a cool thing, a really cool thing.” He isn’t sure where he’s going with this. Maybe he should shut up. Maybe he should jump into the deep sea and die.

Luckily, the guy doesn’t seem that perturbed by the stuttering mess before him. Instead, his expression has changed from looking politely interested to dazed, the corner of his lips twitching in what looks to be an effort to cover a grin. “Well. That’s great to know.”

“Sorry. I’m kind of out of it today.”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Alec taps a button on the cash register and schools his expression to something more professional. “To, um, answer your question; our Knockoff Frappas have been a real hit since their debut last month, so I’d recommend trying that out.”

“‘Knockoff Frappas’, huh?” the guy says, a large smile successfully breaking through his attempts at snuffing it. “Call me crazy, but that wouldn’t happen to be connected to a certain Starbucks drink?”

“Of course not,” Alec says dryly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What even is a Starbucks?” He’s already accustomed to people coming in and thinking they’re funny and creative by saying this. But Alec’s reply just makes the guy’s grin grow wider.

“I see. I’ve somehow walked into a coffee shop where Starbucks doesn’t exist. What a dystopia.”

“More like a utopia,” Alec shoots back, purely for good customer-employee banter, and certainly not because this guy’s eyes look as warm as Raj’s apple cinnamon muffins are when Alec takes them out the oven.

This makes the guy chuckle. He orders a medium caramel frappuccino with a blueberry scone and pays with a sleek silver credit card that shines under the shop’s atmospherically dimmed hanging lights. Alec almost feels guilty when he leaves a fingerprint on its corner when he swipes it through the credit card reader.

“I’m Magnus, by the way,” the guy says as he watches Alec make his frappuccino, showing off an easy grace as he leans against the hand-off plane.

“Alec,” Alec says. He really should invest in a name tag. Jace had ordered some a few years back, but because he’s a dick he used Alec’s full name, so Alec never uses his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alec. I take it that you’re in the midst of some redecorating?” Magnus asks.

Alec hates it when customers try to start a conversation with him while he’s working. Usually he tries to go for socially-acceptable yet short quips that do a great job at cutting conversations short. Today, though, he finds that he doesn’t want to do that. Maybe it’s because the shop gets kind of lonely when it’s empty of customers and Izzy and Jace aren’t around to help out. Maybe it’s because it’s Magnus, the most attractive person he's seen in awhile. He doesn’t know.

“I mean,” Alec says, pouring some ice into the blender, “maybe. I haven’t really thought about it. But since Jace brought it up, I guess we can look into it.”

“Your friends were pretty adamant about it.”

Alec blanches. “I should’ve saw it coming. My siblings love to complain about how little I’ve done with this place ever since I took over.” After adding the rest of the ingredients he puts on the lid and turns on the blender. “It shouldn’t be much of a problem. I just hope it doesn’t cost much, since we’re already on such a tight budget.”

When he glances Magnus’ way he finds the other man giving his complete attention to Alec, as if he finds the topic of micromanaging a small business’ budget riveting and worthy of his time. How strange, if not strangely flattering.

“I’m sure you’re competent enough to get through this,” Magnus assures him. After a pause, he winces and says, “Ah. I just realized I called your shop _drab_ right in front of you. Sorry if that was a bit harsh.”

Alec looks down at the blender and says, “I can handle a bit of constructive criticism. If ‘drab’ could be taken as such.” He huffs and flicks his eyes up to see Magnus’ reaction. He appears to be absolutely mortified. “I’m kidding, Magnus.”

Magnus blinks in confusion and trepidly says, “Oh. Of course.”

Alec keeps his expression open, letting Magnus know that no, he was not offended, he was just trying to make a joke and obviously, he wasn’t that good at it. The blender hums under his hands as Alec watches from the corner of his eye as Magnus reverts back to his previous air of confidence.

“So you’re the manager of this place?” Magnus says, the lilt of his voice a question of its own. _Is this okay?_

It is. “I guess.” Alec shrugs noncommittally and turns off the blender. They’ve never thought of formal titles for themselves. It’s always been just Izzy, Jace, and Alec; nothing more to it. But now, with Clary and Jace and maybe even Izzy and Simon, that could change. Alec isn’t sure if that’s a bad thing. It’s never happened before. “I basically run the place with my siblings.”

“So it’s a family business,” Magnus presumes. The amount of interest he has in Alec’s business life would have been concerning coming from anyone other than Magnus. With him, he genuinely seems fascinated with the history of one out of a million coffee shops in Brooklyn. It’s nice. Magnus is nice.

“That’s how it turned out to be, yeah.”

“With that answer, I take it you didn’t exactly plan it out to be that way.”

“I didn’t, no.” Alec has always found the image of a freshly-blended frappe calming, so he stares at that instead of Magnus’ face as he pours it into a plastic cup with his coffee shop’s logo. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“I have time,” Magnus volunteers. “Ah, could you put extra whip cream on top for me? That would be great.”

“So you’re a sweet tooth,” Alec observes, reaching for a can of Cool Whip Izzy intelligently transferred into a nondescript can with no brand name. For some reason, people are turned off by the fact that the brand of whipped cream Alec uses is Cool Whip. What’s wrong with Cool Whip? What kind of whipped cream do they think other coffee shops use?

“You can say that,” Magnus agrees cheekily. “Now, what were you saying about—”

As if it was staged, the beginning chord progression of Britney Spear’s “Toxic” starts playing from Magnus’ pocket. Alec garnishes off Magnus’ drink with a generous amount of whipped cream as he watches Magnus reach for a sleek-looking phone, his eyebrows pinched in irritation.

“Sorry,” he says to Alec, “This will only take a bit.” After pressing something on the screen, he brings his phone up to his ear and says, “Hey, I’ll call you back.” Pause. “I’m actually in the middle of something right now, that can wait.” Pause. Magnus sighs. “You’re being very unreasonable.” Pause. Magnus rolls his eyes “It can—hmph. Fine. I’ll see you in ten.” He smiles in apology at Alec, who had capped the frappe with its plastic lid during the exchange. “Demanding colleagues. I’m sure you can relate.”

Alec’s mind immediately goes to Jace and the day he forced Alec to decorate the shop in various degrees of red, white, blue, and grey to celebrate the Giants winning the Super Bowl a couple of years back. “I can relate,” he agrees.

Magnus sighs again, loud and dramatized and asking for sympathy. “It seems like our time together has been cut short.”

Alec gives Magnus the finished frappuccino along with the scone (in which Alec put in a biodegradable baggie) and says, “Next time, then,” because he wants there to be a next time. Magnus is very bright. Alec likes that. He likes Magnus’ rings and warm skin and warm eyes, and he isn’t satiated with of the sight them just yet.

At the prospect hidden in Alec words, Magnus stands a bit taller, a smile stretching across his face again. “Yeah.” He nods and says, “I’ll see you later, Alec.”

He holds Alec’s gaze over the hand-off place before grabbing a straw from the condiment station and walking back the way he came. Alec watches him leave.

The day has improved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually updated within the month??? can you?? believe?? insane
> 
> a short update this time bc the shadowhunter ao3 feed is dead and so am I. 
> 
> remember when I said this would supposed be a oneshot?? lolololol

Alec hates to admit it, but the mockups Clary put together are much better than the stock photos that have been hanging on his coffee shop’s walls longer than Alec has been working there. They’d look more at home at the Brooklyn Museum than in a shop on the brink of closing down.

“You're good at art,” Alec observes. Knowing that this is the closest thing to a compliment she'll ever get from him, Clary preens.

“It'll take me a couple of weeks to get the finished products to you,” she estimates. “You sure you like the designs?”

Alec takes the tip of his finger and traces the lines on the one painting Clary has already finished. It’s also the only one that’s not a landscape; instead, it's a mess of gold and blue, the abstract mesh of colors hazy and whimsical. It would look good on the left wall near the entrance, a nice piece of eye-candy for customers to see when they first walk in.

It reminds him of Jace, somehow. He doesn’t look at her when he says, “Yeah.”

Clary smiles, pleased. “Good.”

 

\-----

 

“You’re redecorating?” Raj asks, taken aback after Alec tells him the news. “I don’t know why, but that’s so surprising to me.”

“I get that,” Alec says, signing Raj’s receipt and handing it back to him. “It’s been a long time coming. I mean, it’s not much though, we’re just hanging up some paintings, maybe buy some plants or something. I’m not really in charge of the whole redecorating bit, that’s mostly Jace and Clary.”

“Jace’s girlfriend? The one you said is annoying?” Raj asks. He's never met her before; in fact, Alec’s not even sure Raj has met Jace, or even Izzy. He's such an outlier from the rest of Alec’s life, Alec sometimes wonders if he's even real, or if he’s just real in a different plane of existence than everything else.

Alec thinks of Clary’s proud grin when he complimented her art and her painting that isn’t Jace but is. “She’s alright,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Not to be rude or anything, but your place needs a little sprucing up,” Raj admits. When Alec grimaces, he laughs. “Sorry, bro, but it’s the truth. Right now it teetering on the edge of ‘quaint family-owned coffee shop’ and ‘room full of items a coffee-addicted family is selling at their yard-sale.’ But in a good way.”

“Thanks,” Alec says, pretending to not be entertained.

Raj grunts in amusement and waves his clipboard in thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alec.” He jogs to his truck’s driver door, but stops and says, “Oh! Hey man, you forgot a box.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he says, more sincere this time, taking the box from Raj’s hands.

“No problem. Later!” he says. He gets into his truck and Alec stays, watching Raj leave until he turns the corner and into the street.

In the shop’s backroom, Alec looks at the box’s label. It’s a box of apple cinnamon muffins. He smiles and his thoughts mindlessly goes to Magnus.

When he scans the receipt, he realizes he didn’t order a box of apple cinnamon muffins.

Alone in the backroom, Alec laughs.

 

\-----

 

“It’s _crooked_ ,” Izzy complains, making Alec groan in response.

“You said to tilt it left. I tilted it left,” he snaps at her.

“But it’s still crooked.”

“Why don’t you do this, then? Let’s switch.”

“I don’t trust you to guide me,” she replies.

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing ever since you’ve been alive?” he snarks.

“I’m talking about the _painting_ , you dolt. Don’t get all metaphysical on me.”

“Children, children, please calm down,” Simon placates from where he’s sitting, undeniably not helping anyone with redecorating. Instead, he’s playing a merry tune on his guitar, strumming absently as he shouts words of encouragement at whoever is listening, which is no one. The song he’s playing would be more at home at either a dirty bottom deck of a pirate ship three months into a perilous journey through unmapped waters, or a Starbucks, so Alec is instantly turned off by its pretentious chords.

“I don’t like seeing mommy and daddy fight,” Jace pouts from across the room, where him and Clary are discussing where to put the large potted plant Izzy bought off Craigslist.

Izzy flips him off and turns to Simon, saying, “Can you play something more modern? I’m not in the mood for a jaunty sea shanty.”

“I gotchu,” Simon complies, before beginning to somehow play what sounds like a hardcore acoustic EDM song, with beat drops and everything. Alec thought it impossible before, but it's happening. Jace begins to beatbox a drum line and Clary claps along, laughing in delight when Izzy climbs on top of a table and begins to dance.

Alec stares; at his coffee shop, at his friends, at his family. The scene is familiar but not tired, only cherished. Thoughts of dick landlords and rising rent leave his mind, leaving only contentment and the feeling of belonging in its wake. This is where he’s meant to be.

He might be stuck, but things are changing, and at least he’s in good company.

 

\-----

 

“You _threw up?_ ” Magnus giggles, thoroughly entertained. He’s leaning against the hand-off plane as he usually does, taking the last bite of his blueberry scone as he waits for his caramel frappuccino.

“I’m not ashamed,” Alec says unconvincingly, ducking his head down to hide his growing grin. The blender rattles in his grip, a worthy comparison to the feeling in his stomach whenever he hears Magnus laugh.

“And you shouldn’t be,” Magnus agrees. “So, what happened next?”

Alec shrugs. “What you’d expect. My parents didn’t react the way I’d hoped, but eventually they, um, came to terms with it. Last year they started to invite me back to Thanksgiving dinner again.”

“The best case scenario.”

“Yeah.” Alec scratches his jaw and says, “In hindsight it’s a funny day to look back on, knowing that coming out to my parents didn’t lead to the end of the world, but. Back then, it was so scary, you know? My parents have  always been so uptight and traditional. What was I supposed to expect? They’d accept me with open arms? To seventeen year-old me, or to any closeted teenager, being rejected by my parents was the worst possible thing to happen. Which is why I threw up, because of the nerves. But I, uh, persevered. I guess.”

“Wow.” Alec blinks and looks up. Magnus looks decidedly overwhelmed. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“Sorry,” Alec says, grimacing.

Magnus shakes his head. The earrings he has on today glint with the motion, almost as blinding as the pleased look Magnus sends his way whenever Alec says something particularly clever. “No, definitely not a bad thing. That was actually...quite profound, really.”

At this, Alec snorts, an effort to conceal how pleased he gets whenever Magnus compliments him. Which happens a lot, now that he thinks about it. “I don’t think you come here every day for my half-assed coming-out advice,” he says, finishing the frappe and sliding it across the hand-off plane to Magnus’ awaiting grip, a straw already speared into the generous amount of whipped cream. A well-practiced affair, honed and perfected every weekday for the past month.

“I don’t come here for the frappuccinos, either,” Magnus tells him. He watches Alec watch him as he takes a long sip from his drink. Usually Alec is much more discreet about these types of things, but there’s something about Magnus that makes him care less and less about getting caught.

He knows what Magnus meant. But for him, deflection has always been better than confrontation, no matter how fruitful the outcome of the former could be. “So you’re only here for our scones? Sorry if this ruins your day, but all our pastries are store-bought,” Alec returns. “Very delicious, but they come frozen in a box, dropped off every day by my delivery guy. His name’s Raj, and he’s a really good baker.”

“Warn me before you drop such a bombshell,” Magnus reprimands, and he takes the straw away from his lips to point at Alec with it accusingly. “Now my illusions of how a family business runs are shattered. How are you going to live with yourself now?”

“In shame and voluntary-exile,” Alec says with a resigned sigh. He hears a weird, almost animalistic snort/giggle from the backroom, a hissed “ _shut up_ ” following the sound. Because Izzy and Jace are both children that have to eavesdrop on every conversation Alec and Magnus have despite already being well-acquainted with their newly dedicated customer, who is less of a customer now and more of a friend ( _a friend_ , Alec thinks, dizzy at the revelation, _he’s a friend_ ).

Magnus has the decency to ignore them. “I fully expect you to become the infamous pariah of Brooklyn,” he asserts instead, “destined to live the rest of your days in bitter isolation, fully regretting the moment you told me your baked goods were frozen and premade by a guy named Raj.”

This is the final straw, and Alec tilts his head back, barking out a laugh so foreign and ugly Izzy cracks the backdoor open to make sure that no, a robbery was not taking place and Alec was not in the process of being brutally murdered.

When Alec is finally able to breathe, he looks back at Magnus with an embarrassed apology already at his lips because _wow_ , not only was that wholly unprofessional, he was very regretful that Magnus had to bear witness of that.

But he stops when he sees that Magnus looks anything but repulsed. Instead, he has on a grin so wide it threatens to break his face in half. His frappe sits, forgotten on the hand-off plane, and Alec has never felt so welcomed by a sight in his life.

“I don’t come here for the scones, either,” is Magnus’ breathy reply, “store-bought or not.”

Alec hears a whispered “ _oh my god_ ” and a lower, murmured “ _f_ _ucking christ_ ” from behind him, but nothing is more important than the way Magnus is looking at him at this moment.

Later, when Magnus finally admits that he’s an hour late for an appointment and has to leave, Alec watches him go, unabashed with his blatant admiration and want. When the chime of the door ends, signalling Magnus’ departure from the world that is Alec’s coffee shop, Izzy and Jace crawl out of their hiding spot with zero remorse. Izzy wolf-whistles like she’s cheering on a heavily betted-on race-horse, and Jace stands there with his hands cupping his scalp with a fervent “holy shit, dude, he’s so into you it’s insane,” and Alec pays them no heed.

The purposeful sway of Magnus’ hips replays on the back of Alec’s eyelids for the rest of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Simon are Bros but Alec just doesn’t want to admit it. Also things happen with Magnus I guess.

“I can make shirts,” Magnus offers, a warm presence that somehow fits seamlessly with the small group Alec has somehow earned. The designated round table for Lightwood Bonding Time™ and co. is as cramped as ever with the new addition. No one seems to mind.

“Why would we need shirts?” Alec asks, genuinely confused. Izzy looks at him like he’s an idiot and Jace smothers a condescending snicker into Clary’s hair. Simon’s somewhere out of sight and out of mind, maybe in the bar’s backroom talking with Luse about performance dates. Recently his band’s caught a huge break with a viral hit and has gotten more traction in Brooklyn’s underground indie-rock scene, so he’s trying the manage his gigs and time more efficiently.

The bar across the street has become nearly as familiar to him as his coffee shop, and somehow that doesn’t bother him. Simon has, too, but that situation does.

“More exposure? A new source of income? A greater customer-business relationship?” Izzy lists off with Magnus nodding at every word. Other than him, Izzy is the one that has gotten along the best with Magnus. It’s as if they’ve known each other for years, and he often sees them walking arm-in-arm to and fro with matching expressions of content. They’ve gotten along like a house on fire, and Alec can only watch as they burn brightly and beautifully together.

“Sounds like a plan,” Jace says. “Let’s show Lord Dicks-a-lot that we don’t need to be a Starbucks to be motherfucking ballers.”

Lord Dicks-a-lot is what Jace calls the owner of nearly every lease on the street, ever since they found out from Simon that their landlord is a man (Alec isn’t sure if Simon is a credible enough source, but he isn’t passionate enough about the subject to make a big deal about it). The nickname stuck and spread, eventually becoming the unofficial name for their landlord not only within their group, but the entire street. But his real name is still a mystery.

It’s probably something as pretentious and entitled as his actions. Like Geoffrey, or maybe Tad.

They all look at Alec expectantly. He feels cornered.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he tells Magnus. “Not because you’re not talented, but because I don’t think we can afford you.”

“I’m not asking for payment,” Magnus states plainly, and Alec doesn’t argue with that; his sleek credit card and sleek car and sleek appearance answers the question of Magnus’ financial standing for him. ‘This would be a good side-project for me, to take my mind off of work. I’ll work with Isabelle with the shirts and finances. We’ve already decided on a couple of designs; we’ll get them to you and Jace so we can agree on the final decision.”

“So you’re saying that you’ve been working on this without consulting me,” Alec surmises with a raised eyebrow.

Magnus and Izzy smile at him innocently. “Is that a problem?” he asks.

It’s not. It’s just surprising. Alec hadn’t realized the extent of Magnus, his dull life, and how intertwined they are until now. When Alec thinks of himself, he thinks of coffee, family, stress, of routine. He doesn’t think of Magnus.

Or maybe he does. He’d like to, anyway.

He rolls his eyes. “If this turns out to be a disaster, I expect you to compensate our loss through manual labor.”

“Oh, I’d be _happy_ to comply on those terms,” Magnus purrs. He leans against the table in anticipation and Izzy watches the scene unfold in front of her with unbridled glee.

Jace chortles at that like the frat boy he is. “You walked right into that one, bro.”

“Ah, fuck you,” Alec mutters, and he gets up to go outside into the cool autumn air, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel.

 

\-----

 

Alec stands upright, straight as a rod. He refuses to back down. Simon stares back with an expression as close as collected he can get.

“Are you and Magnus a thing yet?” he asks, drumming his fingers on the counter. The customer waiting for her order beside him glances at the odd pair nervously in quiet concern.

“Distraction tactic. Nice try, Lewis, but you can’t fool me,” Alec sneers.

“Nothing says we can’t have a nice conversation.”

“Shut up and look at me.”

“You guys are so weird,” Jace mutters after he gives the customer her order. She scurries away after another frazzled peek in their direction. “It’d be a miracle if she comes back. What happened to professionalism, huh Alec?”

“This isn’t weird,” Alec defends himself. It’s definitely unprofessional, but he can worry about that later.

The world is getting blurry. Simon’s face is now a tan smear.

“Nice topic change, but you don’t fool me, Lightwood,” Simon accuses. “Answer the question. How’s it going between you and Magnus? Give me the deets.”

“Please don’t talk like that in my coffee shop,” Alec says.

“I’m also curious,” Jace says.

“There’s nothing to tell. Magnus and I are friends.”

“The eyefucking that happens anytime you two are in the same room says otherwise,” Jace says.

“Ugh.” Alec suppresses the urge to hide his burning face behind his fingers. Eyefucking? Really? Is Alec’s pining that obvious? “We’re _friends_ ,” he stresses.

“Ha ha,” Simon says, “that’s the funniest thing you’ve said since...ever. You don’t really have a sense of humor. I don’t see what Magnus sees in you.”

“I have a sense of humor!” Alec says, afront.

“Sure,” Simon says flippantly. He adds, “my eyelids feel like they’re a thousand pounds.”

“Don’t be a quitter,” Jace encourages from the sidelines.

“I’m very funny,” Alec says, still held up on Simon’s earlier statement. “Just not with you. I don’t like you.”

“We all know that’s not true,” Simon brushes off. “You stopped not liking me months ago.”

“Magnus says that my sarcasm is bitingly snark,” Alec says, ignoring the lies Simon spews out his mouth like a factory dumping chemicals into the ocean.

“That’s not a good thing,” Jace says.

“Magnus laughing at your jokes is enough to conclude that he wants to get into your pants,” Simon hypothesizes.

Simon’s frank observation and the fire he feels in his eyes is enough to shatter his resolve. Alec blinks.

“Ha _ha!_ ” Simon laughs victoriously, pointing an accusing finger at Alec’s nose. “You admit defeat! My eyelids are the stronger pair!”

Jace pats Alec’s shoulder in comfort. “Next time, buddy.”

“A potential rematch, you say? I await your impending loss with baited breath.”

Not wanting Simon to see him actually enjoying his presence, Alec purses his lips to keep his smile at bay.

 

\-----

 

“I’d ask you out for a cup of coffee, but that would be a bit counter-intuitive, wouldn’t it?” Magnus says, tapping the tip of his cheekbone with his pointer finger in thought. Izzy and Jace are manning the front and Alec’s on break, so it’s just him and Magnus settled into a table tucked into the corner between the TV set and the glass walls facing the street.

It’s sudden, said in a lull of their conversation. He’d been praising Clary’s artwork on the walls and Alec was only semi-listening, a bit too focussed on the way their table wobbles on its imbalanced legs. He’d have to replace it, or at least get it fixed. But would it be worth getting it fixed? The table’s worn and engraved with water stains and scratches. But if he were to replace it Izzy would probably want to replace their entire stock as well, and _that_ would be—

Thoughts and worries of rickety tables are forgotten when Magnus’ words unscramble until they’re fully comprehensible in Alec’s head. He spends a second too long looking at the hair on Magnus’ head in shock when he notices Magnus’ entire expression twitch. From nerves or irritation Alec isn’t sure, until Magnus clears his throat in a very nervous manner. A very _I’m don’t appreciate being left hanging here after laying my cards on the table_ clearing of his throat. It’s endearing, Alec guesses, but how did Magnus think he would react?

This is how: Alec laughs. The whole throwing his head back and crinkling of eyes package of laughter. He laughs and laughs as he and Magnus sit there, with Izzy watching them with fierce affection and Jace scoffing at how cute a scene they make. The table wobbles and Alec’s world shakes, smelling of coffee and sandalwood.

“Is that you’re way of asking me out?” Alec gasps in between bouts of immature giggles. He hears a loud “YES” from the cashier and a loud smack, sounding eerily like a hand smacking the back of a skull.

Magnus has the patience of a saint and again, ignores their antics. He looks at him as if the entire world resized so it could only fit Alec’s face. “It’s a bit uninspired, I suppose,” he says. “Give me a few days and maybe I could think of something more impressive.”

“No need for that,” Alec assures him, mind fuzzy with white light and the tight feeling he gets when he’s smiling too wide and too long. “I say we get coffee anyway. Izzy mixes a mean brew and I can get you a discount.”

Magnus sighs a breath of relief. As if Alec was going to anything but yes.

Alec feels fingers brush against his own before he takes the plunge and grabs a hold of Magnus’ hand without looking away. Truth be told, he doesn’t give a shit anymore. He likes the way they fit.


	4. Chapter 4

“You look stressed,” Raj comments. Puffs of white wisps and disappears after every breath, and Alec watches as he takes a drink out of the coffee cup he’d given him earlier. “Happy, too, strangely. Happy but stressed.”

“It’s been a stressful month,” Alec replies, because it was. Rent’s tough and the thrift store down the road’s due to close shop this week. The owner’s predictably devastated and Simon’s in this weirdly nostalgic mood in the wake of his long-term part-time job coming to an end. It grates on Alec’s already frazzled nerves, but it’s not like he can do much about it besides fight tooth and nail to stay in business.

Honestly. Fuck his landlord. Besides Magnus, the past couple of months have been complete hell. He’s too young to see this much gray whenever he looks in the mirror.

“And the happy is..?” Raj prods. The last of the boxes have been transferred and accounted for hours ago, yet Alec must be emitting some serious nervous energy right now, because Raj had merely followed him into the back room and made himself at home instead of his usual routine of leaving after a brief chat. Alec doesn’t make any indication of how he noticed this. He appreciates the company.

“Oh.” Alec can't help smiling into the rim of his mug. “Uh, have I ever mentioned Magnus to you?”

Raj snorts. “Ha. Have you ever mentioned Magnus. Hilarious, joke of the year.”

Alec ignores him and says, “Well. We, uh. I guess we’re kind of a thing now. But, you know.”

“Fucking finally,” Raj says, as kindly a person can with words as unkind is his. Raj has never been good with words, and Alec forgives him because neither is he. “Good, I don’t even know the guy, although I feel like I do with how much you talk about him.”

Alec blinks. “Sorry.”

“Oh, pshaw,” Raj says dismissively. “If you can deal with me regaling every waking moment I spend with my unfailingly charismatic patisserie, I can deal with hearing about how Magnus’ eyes change from a mysterious brown to a distinct hazel in the sunlight every now and then.”

“Please,” Alec pleads, hoping his eyes don’t burn off from his internal torment, “stop talking.”

“But really, bro.” Raj smiles at him, sincere. “I’m happy for you. I know it’s been pretty hard for you and the shop lately, with the shitty landlord and all, but at least you got something good out of the year, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees.

“You really like this guy?”

Alec thinks for a moment. “He makes every day feel different,” he decides. “When I’m with him, I don’t feel stuck.”

He doesn’t entirely know what he meant to say by that, but it seems like Raj does. “That’s good,” he says.

The silence between them is always the most comfortable, Alec finds. If he was to ever have a best friend, maybe Raj could be it. Maybe he always has been.

Then, Raj says, “Now. Back to  _ my _ nonexistent love life.”

“Oh no,” Alec says mockingly, leaning against his stainless-steel countertop in preparation.

“That woman,” Raj says, affection coloring his tone. “Man, that woman. Now  _ that _ is someone who knows their way around a kitchen.”

“I can imagine,” Alec says. The shop opens in a couple of hours and usually he likes to prep ahead of time, but real life can wait for a bit.

“No, I bet you can’t, Alec! They way she assembles a croquembouche is, ugh!” He kisses his fingertips appreciatively. “I get breathless just thinking about it. She isn’t French but she definitely bakes like one. Way too good to work in as insignificant a bakeshop as mine. I don’t deserve her.”

“I disagree,” he retorts, and he watches in amusement as Raj lists every reason why Alec is, in this case, wrong.

 

\-----

 

Alec wishes with every bone in his body he wasn’t talking to Simon, praying a single word to every god and deity he knows of:  _ why. _  The object of his resigned prayers happily sucking on a  _ Starbucks _ (STARBUCKS) frappuccino, and Alec thinks back to every lesson of restraint his mother taught him and keeps his hands jammed in his pockets.

Simon points out, care-free and oblivious to Alec’s loathing, “This is a good start; watching people in the gym. Maybe next time we’ll be  _ in _ the gym.”

“Izzy should be done by now,” Alec tells him, eyes straining to stray from the offending green logo Simon has in his gloved hands. It’s very hard not to.

“Have I ever told you about the last time I went to the gym?” Simon asks, as if Alec had any interest in hearing anything that came from Simon’s mouth. “Man, I remember it like it was yesterday. So Clary signed us up for some kettlebell classes, right? And we  _ so _ hungover—”

“Oh look Izzy’s here how great what excellent timing,” Alec announces, relieved at the sight of her. She waves at the two of them and jogs the rest of the way.

“Hey guys, thanks for the ride,” she says graciously. Alec shoulders her gym bag because he’s a good big brother and Simon offers her a sip of his Starbucks frappuccino because he’s an idiot. “Oh I can’t, you’re not supposed to consume any excess sugar after a—that’s Starbucks.”

Simon does his usual show of examining the beverage in his grasp in shock. He rubs at the sharpied “Siemun” and says, “Yeah, you’d think they’d learn how to spell my name by now.”

“We’re on the brink of bankruptcy and you’re still feeding the corporate majority,” Alec expresses, defeated. They've already had this conversation countless times before; by now, he can no longer bring himself to care. “You’re out of a job, for Christ’s sake. How can you still afford to buy overpriced cups of caffeinated sugar?”

“No no no. No fighting when I’m all sweaty and gross,” Izzy demands, steering them towards Simon’s disgustingly hipster van. They climb on board and begin the short drive back to the Lightwood’s cramped apartment.

“...and they turned out to be record reps!” Simon says, later, Alec only catching the tail end of his long run-on sentence. He’s bouncing in the driver’s seat from both excitement and caffeine, and Alec is surprised at how steady the ride has been. “God, can you believe it? I genuinely think we have a chance at getting signed.”

“No wonder you’re not that broken up about the thrift shop closing,” Izzy muses.

“Oh no, that’s horrible. The shop’s great and I feel terrible for Jocelyn.” Simon shrugs. “Nevertheless, this could be my big break. I’m graduating uni this December and, well. I’m not gonna work there forever, that was never the plan. The street’s become a second home for me and I love it and everyone in it, but I don’t want to be stuck here forever, you know? Not like—”

_ You _ , Alec’s brain supplies him despite Simon cutting himself off. He knows he should feel offended by Simon’s stinging declaration. But how can he when it’s true?

“Yeah,” he hears Izzy mumble from the passenger seat, and they sit there in introspective silence before Izzy startles out of her contemplative stupor and yells, “Don’t take this turn!”

“What?” Simon says, taking the turn.

“Oh no,” Izzy replies, troubled.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asks when Izzy sends him a panicked glance.

“This is the fastest route to your guys’ place,” Simon adds. “Did something happen? A grisly premeditated murder, perhaps? Or maybe—oh.”

“Alecdon’tlook,” Izzy blurts out.

Alec looks out the window to see what could just be the only thing in Simon’s life that rendered him speechless.

Two months ago, a modest bookstore existed in between a local butchery and ice cream parlor. Two months ago, they closed down because the elderly joint-owners couldn’t keep up with the increased rent-rate indicted by their and Alec’s own Lord Dicks-a-lot. 

And now.

A construction site. A long canvas poster proudly hanging on the fence surrounding the frame of a building structure. That god-forsaken green mermaid. The bolded, all-caps “COMING SOON” laughing right in Alec’s face, taunting, jeering.

They’re a mere ten minute walk from Alec’s coffee shop.

“Oh no,” Izzy repeats.

“Fucking shit,” Alec remarks simply.

 

\-----

 

Alec, Izzy, and Jace live together in an apartment close enough to the coffee shop so they can walk to it every day without it being a hassle. It’s cramped and, frankly, not located in the greatest of complexes, but it works, and Alec spends most of his time at the shop, anyway. Jace has been staying more and more at Clary’s, and Izzy basically has the apartment to herself. She’s been talking about moving out for the better part of a year, and Alec doesn’t really see any reason as to why she should. 

“She’s a young, fully grown adult who hasn’t yet had the experience of living on her own,” Magnus reasons when Alec tells him this. They’re waiting for the complex’s sole elevator and Magnus’ hand is in Alec’s hoodie’s pocket. “It must be pretty suffocating being surrounded by her two brothers every waking moment.”

“I guess,” Alec says. The elevator dings open and Alec glances nervously at him when Magnus follows him inside.

Alec isn’t sure if Magnus is going to stay the night. He’d like him to. But they haven’t done this yet. Magnus has been to his apartment but as Alec and Magnus: friends and not as Alec&Magnus: ???. It’s still new between them and Alec doesn't want to ruin it by pushing forward too quick.

Magnus observes after a quiet elevator ride to the eighth floor, “You have that far-away look you do when something big is on your mind, darling. Care to share?”

“Sorry,” Alec says.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Magnus says.

“It’s just--” Alec sighs and tugs them down the hallway. “Ugh. Starbucks.”

“Ah.” Magnus nods in understanding. “I saw that. They’re building one around here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I know how much you hate them.”

“It’s not just that,” Alec argues. They stop when they reach his door and he reaches in his jeans pocket for his keys. “They’re  _ competition _ . We’ve been the only coffee shop in the block for entire time I’ve been in charge of the joint and even then we’d been having trouble. Imagine how it’ll be after the monopoly of the coffeehouse industry opens up a mere walking distance from us. I know what’ll happen.”

“MAD?” Magnus suggests.

Alec shakes his head. “No. That would imply that there’d be loss on both sides. In my situation, it’s only me, Izzy, and Jace bearing the brunt of it all.”

Magnus squeezes their hands, still intertwined together and stuffed in the cheap fabric of Alec’s hoodie. He likes this. It gets cold in Brooklyn this time of year but Magnus helps him stave off the sharp bite of winter.

“I’m guessing some shirts won’t do much help with that,” Magnus says.

Alec breathes and sucks on his bottom lip, looking at Magnus’ collarbone. “Not really. If they were able to get rid of Lord Dicks-a-lot then yeah, but they can’t. They look really nice, though. Customers like them.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says. He stands there for a moment, his hand still in Alec’s pocket, just looking. Alec lets him. “Well,” he says later, after he gets his fill of whatever he finds fascinating about Alec’s face. “I best be off.”

“Oh,” Alec says. That answers that question. “Okay.” Maybe later, then.

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Did you know that one of the stains in this hallway kind of looks like Australia?” Magnus suddenly asks, like it’s something that has been on his mind for a while.

Alec searches for the stain in question and finds it. “Huh,” he says. “I’ve been living here for years and I never noticed that.”

“You’re welcome,” Magnus says, grinning as if Alec had said something funny. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alexander.”

“No one calls me that except for my mother,” Alec reminds him.

“I know,” Magnus says, cheerily impudent. And he kisses him, familiar, his lips reminding Alec of waves crashing to the shore.


End file.
